PS 3525 
.083 L4 
1901 
Copy 1 



LGAVnCS PPvOn 

AI\50I\ LODGC 



BY 



MARY FRENCH MORTON 



Chicago, III. 

Press of The Blakely Printing Company 

igoi 



The library of 
co'mgress, 

Two Coi-iES Received 

NOV. 25 1901 

COPVBIQHT E^aRY 

CLASS O/XXo. No 

/ ^^ />^ 
COPY B. 



1^ 






^ 



('o|)\ riKlit. I'Jiil. 
1!\ MAKY I'KI'.NCII MoiriDN 



A FAIR LITTLE WORLD OF MY OWN. 

I'VE a fair little world of my own, 

A place where I enter alone 
With Fancy to stray 
O'er her beautiful way 
And list to her nuisical tone. 

O, she shows nie such wonderful drcan's 

And I see such radiant gleams 

Of all that is bright 

And all that is right : 

We drift over wandering streams, 

Over streams with a murmur so sweet 

No one can their music repeat. 

I find not a word 

To tell what I've heard 

From voices whose echoes were fleet. 

And so oft when with Fancy I t1ee 

I turn to look backward and see 

The charm that she lends 

To faces of friends 

Who live not in visions with ir.e. 

A charm from the Hashing in sight 

Of thoughts that with love are alight, 

Like halos they fall 

With grace over all 

And linger with tenderness bright. 

Away from the tumult and drone. 

From throngs in which one is alone. 

The shadows uplift 

And restful tides drift 

In that fair little world of mv own. 



WINTER'S LAUGHTER. 

A t IIKISTMAS CHIMF.. 

Tlu' sleighbells are tlie Winter's laugliter 
That through the veiling snow comes lliuviu^t 
When flakes are hither, thither blowing 
Like airy sprites in a.ll ways going 
I'.liiwn on hy winds that follow after. 

ll rijiples with a mirth beguiling. 

With glaijness in its joyous greeting. 

hair, bygone memories repealing. 

To hearts grown old in time's swift fleeting, 

'lill sad, gra\e lips nnberid in smiling, 

.\n(l with tile >()und of light hoofs praneing. 
The laughter all its joy is flinging 
.\o\v here, now there, in strains of singing, 
Till quick", \oung feel are gaily springing 
And roguish e_\e> with glee are dancing. 

It rijjples wiih a sweet intoning 
Across the snowdrifts' gho>tly trailing 
.\nd sentls its merry challenge hailing 
The \(iices of the Old ^'ear'^ wailing. 
.\nd mocks their soft and plaintive moaning. 

The fro/en forest waits and listens 
To catch the laughter, pealing, shaking 
In trills, the ^leeping trees awaking. 
Till cr_\-stals from the branches breaking 
l'"all ringing where the ice stream glistens. 

() .^kighdiells are the joyd)ells swelling. 
When road>ides are with jewels twinkling. 
To rise and fall in chime and tinkling. 
Their showered tones of music sprinkling. 
With Winter's laughter tkirough them welling! 



THE BACKLOG'S SONG OF SUMMER. 

There's a sweet, entliralling magic 

Lurking in the glowing fire. 
Soft enchantment in it flickers, 

And the song of hidden lyre 
From the gnarled log's rugged surface 

Sounds in faintest, fitful tone. 
Oft a mirth is in its ringing. 

Oft it h.as a saddened moan. 

Gentle voices of the woodland 

Echo, in its music weird. 
Melodies from great tree monarchs 

Standing in their strength unseared. 
Only those who sit and listen 

By the restful hearthfire's gleam 
Hear the snugs that lead the fancy 

Speilhound in a happy dream. 

All the carols of the summer 

]\furnuu- friim the forest's sheen 
Where the backlog learned its singing. 

Swaying with the houghs of green. 
There it heard the songs from heaven. 

Heard the south wind wdiisper low 
Midst the scenes that seem to linger 

Sunriecked in the embers" glow. 

With the f.itting flames and shadows 

\'isions come and disappear; 
Fan-, loved faces of the missed ones 

Li the twilight hover near. 
Fondest hopes long since abandoned 

Come again with fresh, new life — 
Far away in wintry tempest 

Lies the world of care and strife. 



GARDEN SECRETS. 

If the Irutli be known 
The fairies alone 

The garden secrets know. 
O. if one would alight 
By me in its flight 

O'er blossoms, to and fro ! 

I would say, "O stay ! Don't hurry away. 

'Sly dear .Miss Shining Wings. 
\\'on"t you stop for repose and sit on this rose 

That rocked by breezes swings? 
In the garden here is much that's (|ueer. 

And fairies are so wise. 
Would there i)e any harm in lending your charm 

To help my mortal eyes""" 

"I should like to see where dreams can be 

That poppies hide away. 
And to take a sly peep where daisies keep 

The words their petals say. 
And I long to glance at you when you dance 

And lady slippers wear. 
Are they easily torn? Do they ever get worn 

In trip])ing through ihe air?" 

"With your charm, my ear may learn how to hear 

Wl'i.nt ])ansies have to tell ; 
Ah, so nuich they have thought, no longer they ough 

In silent mood to dwell. 
Tell me how, O please, to And their heart's ease. 

Will they give a bit to me? 
Does the faint ting-a-ling of the blue bells' ring 

Call fairies home to tea?" 

'"Does their tinkle low n'.ake four o'clocks know 

Their waking time each day? 
Will a snapdragon bite? Do you think it right 

To pinch one just in ])Iay?' 
Are those pretty things, the tl(iwers with wings. 

Contented on their stem ?" 
Do butterflies tease the fluttered sweet peas 

To fly away with them ?" 



I have looked all day 
Where blossoms were gay, 

For dainty, flitting wings; 
I have searched in the night 
But never caught sight 

Of fairies that know these things 



GLAD DAYS. 



Some days bring happiness along. 
Each flying hour is full of song, 
W'e know not why. 

The world wears radiance that's new. 
Far deeper is the tint of blue 
Spread o'er the sky. 

The mingled sounds that fill the air 
Have in our mood a happy share, 
And sweet reply 

From countless friendly voices sings ; 
Some charm a welcome message brings 
From all that's nigh. 

Perchance all shining, flitting things 
Waft blithesome thoug'hts before their wings 
That toward us fly. 

O days that never come at call ! 
Their marvels in our pathways fall. 
We know not why. 

We list, surprised, to trill of liird. 
As if the ear had never heard 
So sweet a cry. 

The cheer that's told in hum of bees. 
The impulse brought by quickened breeze 
Which hastens by, 

Make some days seem of joy a part. 
Till dreams of beauty fill the heart. 
We know nut whv. 



FACE THE SUNSHINE. 

Tliough yesterday was dark witli glcK.im. 
Wlien sorrow shadowed all tliy way. 
Till suffering and anguish rose 
Cloudlike to hide and blot nut day. 
And through thy heart swept loud retrain, 
A tempest's song of grief anil pain, 

Seek not to-day to elose thine eyes. 

Nor backward look when earth's bright glows 

Seeni cruel mockery that comes 

To follow smilingly thy woes. 

While darkness lends thy soul relief 

And gi\es sad welcome to thy grief. 

Lift up thy tired, bowed head, dear one. 
To face once luore the shining light 
That slowly, but so surely will 
Dispel thy spirit's lengthened night. 
Look up with dim, tear-blinded eyes 
To see to-day's fair, dazzling skies. 

Grief's darkness waits to bide all else 
But self's strong, urgent claims. 
Toward others will the chastened hopes 
Oi brightened hearts send out their aims. 
Not now, 1)ut sometimes will the years 
Show thee the joys sunlit through tears. 

Ere long the bruised and storm-tossed buds 
Of struggling hope will show their hue. 
With pure, sweet fragrance will unfold 
Their blossoms and will find anew 
The life and strength of all that lies 
P)eneath the glow of heaven's fair skies. 

Turn toward the warmth of (iod's great love 
To find new impulse for thy will 
Till thou canst bid the jangled tones 
Of '-orrow's discord to be still. 
While clouds of yesterday will roll 
Bevond the dawn that greets thv soul. 



1 6 



THE PASSING SHOWER. 



AKBOR LODGE. 

From o'er the prairie the wind blows by. 
The soft clouds float in the clear blue sky. 
Afar, o'er meadows and fields of green. 
The coming mist of the rain is seen. 

Tall trees along the horizon stand ; 
Below is sinking the rolling land 
In curving wa\es which fall and rise. 
A traniinil, motionless sea it lies. 

And down the slopes with their verdured tint 
The shower comes, and the faintest glint 
Of silver gleam from its somber gray 
Is shining out from its fringing spray. 

And u[) the hills whore the corn fields grow. 
O'er orchards slanting in fruitful row. 
O'er parching earth with its furrows deep. 
The fresh drops fall in their onward sweep. 

They reach the woodland that curves between 
The pasture cleft by the dark ravine. 
And creep midst leaves as if sad to go 
To paths that wind in the shade below. 

The wet air comes like a swelling tide. 
From great barn doors that are open wide 
The farmer watches the bowing grain 
That crowns his toil on the fertile plain. 

From country homes, over hedged roads down. 
The shower comes to the dusty town. 
And ]ielts and tunefully taps each pane 
With rapid chime of a gay refrain. 

Then, joining the turbid Alissouri's sweep. 
The darting drops in its current leap. 
Borne on in flight o'er the basin land 
To where, uprising, its outlines stand. 



17 



Still on beyond, o'er the distant view 
Where hazy blnffs wear an opal hue, 
The drifting cloud of a summer day 
Melts out of sight in its Heeting way. 

The sunbeams glance, when the rain has tied. 
()n lowly grasses with jewels spread. 
And seek the gems in their hiding place 
Within each flower's uplifted face. 

The shining Iea\es and the tree> upbear 

.A network radiant in the air. 

The prairie smiles with the fresh, sweet power 

()f new life brought by the iiassing shower. 



KINSHIP W ITH THE TREES. 

.\K]U)R LODGE. 

Beneath the far-outreaching arch of boughs 

That sweej) with majesty on high 
Some potent charm the human heart endows 

With joy th:it shares the grandeur nigh. 

A joy that feels the strong and sulitle boud 

That draws it with a kinship's tie 
To wait and list while all the trees re^poud 

\\'ith sweet conipanionshiiVs reply. 

Within the trees there springs the eager life 
I'hat works, unseen, with wondrous care. 

Th;il tills their cells with strength and vigor rife 
Erom r(Tots to highest twigs in air: 

That l>rings the yearly store for solid grain. 

Built ever outward, ring by ring. 
\\ bile upward, for the gifts from sun and air. 

The Iniughs their open leaflets tling. 

They stand like stalwart men whose cradled dtiys 
Were blessed with fair enxironment. 

\\"hose minds ur.folded in the happy ways 
Where all the Ix-st of life was l)lent. 

iS 



Till added grace and force and wisdom's gain 

Built characters that rose sublime 
To meet unmoved the storms that sweep in vain 

To check the growth that comes with time. 

With rugged, broken bark or scars" deep trace 
The trees wear marks of force within. 

Like lines that mirror on the human face 
The hearts' pure thoughts, or stain of sin. 

In shaded roads or in the woodland way, 
When on the trees shines morning's beam 

Or glows the mellow light of golden day 
Or when the moon lends silver gleam. 

Alluring witchery pervades the air. 

A friendly spirit lurks in each soft breeze 
And calls the heart to feel the tie that's there. 

The bond of kinship with the trees. 



SIMPLE TRE.\SURES. 

Was ever lofty mount so high 

Among the Alpine ranges 
As Grandsire's woodpile, still in sight 

Beyond the long years' changes ! 
Were ever braver tourists known 

Than we whose hearts were quaking 
While clim1)ing up witli slipping feet 

That kept the sticks all shaking. 

Till there we sat perched on the top 

In breathless joy and pleasure. 
Such happy lads and lassies 'midst 

A store of simple treasure. 
We tore the crackling shagbark up 

In pieces long and brittle; 
Soft bits for boats from cottonwood 

Were broken off to whittle. 



Beneath the hark the logs were white 

And snu:>t)th like satin lining; 
Above lay flecks of velvet moss 

Like jewels in their shining. 
W'lien o'er the rough pile's jagged edge 

Our eager eyes tried peeping. 
Like honey lay the drops of sap 

From out the new logs creeping. 

About us was our childish world, 

The lane that seemed ne'er ending. 
The corn house near, the great red l>arn 

Where joys untold were blending. 
We smiled down at the clucking hens 

\\ith tiny chicks of yellow. 
And jeered the gobbler as he passed. 

A strutting, cross old fellow. 

Sweet forest odors filled the air 

Like those we met when jjlaying 
That we were (iypsy vagrants hold 

And through the woods went straying. 
Ah, well-a-day! We still look back 

Like wistful lads and lassies 
And smile e'en though that woodi)ile stands 

Before our tear-dimmed glasses. 



TO-DAY. 



O beautiful To-day! 
How fleeting is thy sway! 
Thou art here with treasure 
Xo beam can measure. 
And then thou art awaj-. 

We heed thee not, perchance. 
But l)ackward turn our glance, 
And we sigh with grieving. 
Past joys percei\ing 
That loss doth but enhance. 



And yd \vc surely kimw 
Thou comest to bestow 
Precious liours for using, 
And time for clioosing 
Our har\est seed to sow. 

No future days reveal 
Tliat, hidden by God's seal. 
Which they have in keeping, 
AUhough with weeping 
To them we oft appeal. 

But thou. To-day. we see ! 

O. dull our hearts must be, 

If we grasp not duty 

And miss the beauty 

Of moments brought with thee. 

Thou fragment of all time! 
Within each swift hour's chime 
Thou hast safe in holding 
The fresh unfolding 
Of Heaven's truths sublime. 



THE GRACE OF SILENCE. 

Of all ilie graces that we seek 

To nials'e ou.r li\es complete. 
Not one more hea\enly beauty wears 

Nor shines with light more sweet 
Than the true grace which seals the lips 

.Xnd checks the words that spring 
With careless m-irlh or bitter scorn. 

Until the tongue is lashed to fling 
A taunt to one who turns from good 

And falls in life's swift rush — 
Ah th.cn. O lips, in silence wait : 

The loving Eather bids thee hush. 



23 



Tlie one who wanders nui\- ha\e Irod 

So thoughtlessl.v along. 
Too eagerly, too far led on 

By pleasure's subtle song. 
Or burdened with a hidden woe 

Some saddened hearts may aehe 
Until their weary, blinded eyes 

Sec not the path they take. 
.\h. wl"io so perfect as to feel 

No penitential blush? 
O kingly words of Christ I "Judge not." 

Close lips, (ind's mercy bids thee hush. 



A FROLIC IX THl'. TREK TOPS. 

They're liaxing the funniest time to-night 

High up in ilie lops n\ the irees: 
There's a ipiick hltle rush and a gay little stir 

.\nd a blithe little song fnuu llie breeze. 

.\ group iif (lid friends on the lawn llie\- stand. 

'{"lie maples, the elm'- and the oaks. 
With their boughs all entwined they are shaking 
their heads 

-And they seem to be whispering jokes. 

.Ml day, with the light of the sun above. 

The leases were as still as could be. 
In their pretty green robes they were hanging asleep 

Or the\' drowsily nodded to me. 

BiU now in a twitter thc\' ir(i\-e about. 

The branches toss up in um'est : 
There is danger. T fe;ir. of their waking the liirds. 

Who ha\-e gone long ago to the nest, 

'i'here m.ay be a dance 'mid the swinging boughs. 

Perhaps there's a cpiarrel ! Who knows? 
For the moon's looking down as if trying to frown 

At the mischief she sees. I suppose, 

Tl'cv whisk- to and fro and they sway aside; 

The leaves seetn to lau.gh with the breeze. 
There's a rustling of fun and of frolic to-night 

All around in the to]).- of the trees. 

24 



RAB. 

ARBOR LODGE. 

What does he think of, my Scotch colUe' 

He looks so far away 
With searching eyes so deep, so speaking 

With words he cannot say. 

Across the wide and rolling pran-ie 

We two together walk 
In fond companionship, two comrades 

Whose hearts together talk. 

He looks at me with comprehension 

Of all my love for him, 
\A'hile in his face glows such affection. 

It makes my eyes grow dim. 

And when I pat his head and smiling 
Bend down to scan his face. 

It brightens like a sunbeam shining — 
Then off we go at rapid pace. 

To roam on plains of fair Nebraska. 

To wander through ravine. 
To climb the sloping hilltop's summit 

And look beyond o'er waves of green. 

Up there, my Rah seems lost in thinking 

And looks so far, so far 
Away, like sculptured statue standing. 
Silent, lest the scene I mar. 

I stand beside him, feeling, knowing 
Where all his thoughts must be. 

And mine go, too, to "Bonnie Scotland," 
Our home-land o'er the sea. 

I see the hills of blooming heather. 

I hear the shepherd's cry. 
And feel the bracing air of Highlands 

That proudly greet the sky. 



27 



And like a flood comes sweep of visions, 

The gathered clans appear 
In gayest hues and plaids of tartan. 

Tile chieftain's plumes are near. 

Mark I loud and shrill the bagpipe's calling, 

The herald's shout alarms, 
And Scottish heroes come with springing 

To lead their hosts to arms. 

The warlike pictures fade and vanish, 

The air is tilkd with M)ng. 
The harper sing^ of love and glor_v 

In liallads (jraint and long. 

.\nd then the strains gmw faint and fainter 

Like lales of ancient lore: 
.Siifi whisitered calls come up from woodlands 

And we are hack once nmre. 

Again amidst ihe roll of ])rairies. 

We're in the snndil land. 
And "i'iali." 1 say. and Rah looks toward me 

And — wlII. we understand I 

We've both been roaming o'er the lieather. 

Both hearts the charm have felt 
And love that drew us to the Highlands 

\\'here once our father^ dwelt. 



AN INVITATION. 

With.in the calm seclusion 

Among the quiet nooks 
Where wait the friendly faces 

Of long-familiar books, 
I turn the poet's pages 

And read the quaint words o'er, 
When, with the faintest whisper. 

A zephyr swings the door. 

28 



Once more the past attracts me 

To journe\' liy the .side 
Of pilgrims who "in fehiwesciiipe 

Toward Caunterbury ryde." 
When lo, a wave of fragrance 

Sweeps through the ancient lore ! 
With whiffs of wild rose perfume 

The zephyr swings the door. 

As if the gentle Chaucer, 

Who loved all Nature well. 
Still wandered forth in spirit. 

Enchanted by her spell. 
And sent his voice which lingered 

From ages gone before 
To join a pleading zephyr 

That softly swings the door. 

It swings to show a glimmer 

Of rippling waters How, 
Of white-sailed visions fleeting 

And drifting clouds of snow ; 
Of woodlands green where quiet 

Is held with peace in store : 
With subtle plea alluring. 

The zephyr swings the door. 

Fleet fancy opens swiftly 

The portals of the years : 
Afar, in shining meadows. 

The poet's form appears. 
Away from courtly splendors 

To scenes that charmed him more, 
He beckons one to follow 

When fancy swings the door. 

To follow where, mid daisies, 

In eager joy he went 
To seek in lonely pathways 

His deepest heart's content ; 
Where words began their singing 

To echo o'er and o'er. 
Into the realm of Nature 

He swung th.e poef's door. 

31 



From \t'r(lant arches rising 

Wlicre forest shadows sleep. 
From fields o'erspread with sunlight. 

From ])anks where flowers creep. 
Still calls his voice inviting 

Gra\e eyes from hookish lore 
To wander forth with Nature 

\\ hen zephyrs swing the door. 



.AlORXIXG tlLORlES. 

O children dear, awake betimes 
To hear the nidrning glory chimes! 
At break of day 

They ring for play. 
And sweetly call. "Come, don't be late 
When all the ji)ys of morning wait." 

Up, ever ujjward toward the sun 
The n:(n-ning glories swifth- run. 
They climb and Hing 
Their bells to swing 
Far over all the lovely heads 
Of llowers in the garden lieds. 

They've trailed their leaves beyond the ground 
And twined the old rail fence amund. 
They've co\ercd all 
The gate post tall. 
And hung the broken tree with green 
Until its liark can scarce be seen. 

All dressed in colors like the sky 
They've crept above the lattice high. 
"The world is bright 
With golden light ; 
() come and see its shining hue!" 
Ring out the bells of palest blue. 



32 



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O listen, while the faint chimes steal 
Above us in a sunrise peal! 
"The dewdrops here 

Are fresh and clear," 
Call bells that swing in robes of pink, 
"Come out and see the flowers drink!' 

"A silver web the spider weaves 
And fastens it among my leaves. 
It hangs in air 

And looks so fair. 
The pretty lace was made last night," 
Sing swaying bells of snowy white. 

The fairies say. I've understood. 
That only children who are good 
And sweet and dear 
This chiming hear. 
For them alone the blossoms sing 
.\nd bells of morning glories ring. 



A RIDE IN THE OLD STREET CAR. 

NEBRASK.V CITY. 

Away from the scenes of traffic's whirl. 

Where the road goes sloping down 
To meet the flowing river's blue 

That lies below the town. 
The old street car goes jogging on 

Like a rambler on his way. 
Who pauses here and loiters there. 

And yet seems loth to stay. 

From out its eastern door we see 

The blutYs that melt away 
In distaiu liaze to softly gleam 

With jeweled tints of day; 
And toward the wide, out-spreading west 

The peaceful couiUry lies. 
With glints of gold, the meadows green 

Curve under azure skies. 



33 



Drawn un by imilcs wliose tinkling bells 

Sing out a plaintive air. 
Unmindful that the old brown car 

Shows marks of grim Time's wear, 
Wc sit content and dream out dreams 

That come with summer hours. 
And wonder if a lua\enly land 

Could be more fair than ours. 

Perchance, in thought, we see again 

Tlie long, white-canvased trains 
Of pioneers who passed this way 

To cross far-reaching ]ilains. 
Like phantoms from the by-gone years 

The\' come and pass from \iew. — 
O bra\e hc'irts journeyed to the west 

WHien this old town was new I 

Beyond the wheat-helds. toward the south, 

God's Acre crowns the hill — 
There sleep our dearest, left alone 

Where all is hushed antl still. 
J^.ul from the old car's windows 

We see the sunbeams lie 
Where shining stones point ui)ward. 

With jtromise. to the sky. 

So back and forth it goes each day, 

Fritm flowing river's brim 
To haunts of birds in shadowed grove 

Whose quiet paths are dim. 
Through traffic's stir, by hillside still. 

The old car jogs along 
And one who sits within may hear 

Life's varied strains of song. 




^lARCH WINDS. 



ARBOR LODGE. 



O, the roaring, boisterous, loud Marcli wind! 
How it bows the gaunt tree tops ! 
How it sweeps the fields till the dry stalks clash 
How its voice in moaning drops 

Till it shrieks and wails 

O'er the mournful tales 
That it tells in the chimneys tall ! 

With turbulent might 

Roars the wind at night, 
With furious, wrathful call. 

O, the merry, frolicsome, wild March wind I 
How it blows across the plain 
With a rush and whirl and a cheery cry 
Like the ring of a gay refrain ! 

O, it thrills dull hearts 
Till their sloth departs 
And the toils and the hopes grow bright. 

"Again to the strife 

With a fresh new life !" 
It sings in the spring's clear light. 

There's a gentle tone in its soft low voice 
As the March wind slowly creeps 
Through the quiet air, with a call so faint 
O'er the place where the snow drop sleeps. 
O, it moves along 

With a subtle song! 
When it lingers among the firs 
To whisper that spring 

Will their new leaves bring. 
Each tree in its rapture stirs. 



35 



APPLE BLOSSOMS. 

In the springtime, bright and breezj% 

On a May day. clear and fair. 
Stood a lionnie maiden, smiling. 

Willi the sunshine on her hair. 
And her eyes were lifted upward 

To the blos,soms overhead. 
With a happy look of wonder; 

Joyous were the words she said: 

"Apple blossoms, apple blossoms. 

O. 1 know, and know it well. 
As you're swaying just above me. 

Something sweet you have to tell. 
Can you guess of whom Pm dreaming. 

Ciuess the name I dare not speak."" 
All the pink within the blossoms 

Was reflected on lier cheek. 

Clustered branches bent around her. 

Waiting buds Inmg o'er her way. 
Wliile her joy was shyly whispered 

To the flowers of the May. 
"Apple blossoms, apple blossoms. 

How your fragrance fills the air! 
Just as love, so true and tender. 

Maketh all my life most fair." 

When again upon the blossoms 

Gazed the pretty little maid. 
Fled were blush and smile of greeting. 

Sad her eyes with pensive shade. 
As in plaintive tone she murmured. 

"It wa^ all a dream. Ah me!" 
Silently the white leaves downward 

Fell like teardrops from the tree. 

Roguish Cupid oft lies hidden 

In an orchard's charming maze; 
But his arrow\s aimed through flowers 

Youthful hearts will only graze. 
Springtime love so oft. like blossoms. 

Short-lived, lingers but to die: 
Like the petals, off it flutters 

When a fitful breeze blows by. 



36 




\-*^t^»- ^0- 







GRAND.MOTHER'S LAST SPINNING. 

Her well spent seventy years were o'er 

When she cried, "Let me have my wheel once more ; 

My spinning wheel from the garret bring, 

I fain wiuild hear its dear voice sing." 

Well pleased she smiled when the wheel was found 
And again at her touch began its round; 
With sweet content and with movement slow 
She walked beside it. to and fro. 

Her face was bright a.s if joy of youth 
Had returned to adorn its strength and truth; 
With silver gleam curved the hair, snow white, 
Above her brown eyes' eager light. 

We know that, borne by the years, ere long 
She would listen, enrapt, to the angels' song; 
Our hearts' deep lo\e had a startled thrill 
Of wonder that we kept her still. 

She paused, as if knowing our thoughts, to say, 
"No, my children, I cannot always stay. 
So oft through life I have been bereft. 
So luany gone ! So few are left !" 

"His will be done who died to save. 
But I hope ne'er to see another grave ; 
I W'Ould go soon and in rest abide 
To welcome you at eventide." 

And well her radiant face portrayed 

That her thoughts to the "many mansions" strayed ; 

With peace that only God's children feel 

She turned again to her spinning wheel. 

In its low hum to her heedful ears 
Was a tender refrain of bygone years ; 
Of haunts she knew and loved it told. 
Familiar tones it seemed to hold. 

Of luirth and laughter, of children's glee. 
Of voices that called her again to see 
The faces shining with love-light fair. 
The sunny gleams of wavy hair. 

39 



So plain, so real, to her ihey seemed 
All the present was lost, she fondly dreamed 
Of her young life on the dear old farm 
'Mid hallowed ties of home's sweet charm. 

The wheel sang on till its plaintive sound 
Told of many a low and grassy muund : 
Her heart away from its hum and whirl 
Was led beyond the "gates of iiearl.'" 

The setting sun sent its parting rays; 
As they lighted the mom with golden haze 
They softly fell on the tear-dimmed eyes. 
And grandmother paused in mild surprise. 

The wheel's song ceased as she dropi)ed her hand 
And she spoke as if all her Iiousehold hand 
From earth and heaven were at her side : 
"Yes. we shall meet at e\'entide." 



SUNSET. 



ARliOK I.01)(;K. 



White, snow white is the glittering ground 

Stretching afar in the prairie land: 
The fierce winds sing o'er the hidden paths 

That wind where the lonely woodlands stand 
Cold and grave is the mist of l)lne 

Shrouding the hill> where they meet the sky; 
Beneath the desolate orchard's brown 

And l)are woven bough-^ the >h;ul.'w> lie. 

Slowly dawning a radiance breaks, 

Shining through dusk of the somber West 
Till dazzling sunbeams gather in throngs 

To follow the day's last hour to rest. 
Clouds that loitered with shadowing veil 

Swept from the sun. draw their folds aside 
As if a home for the weary wcirld 

Were opened with all its portals wide; 
Outward, welcoming warm light falls. 

Gleaming like fireside flashings of gold. 
To call the desolate children of earth 

Away from the night time gloom and cold. 



THE KITCHEN BALL. 

The ground was white with drifting snow 

Beneath the cloudy sky, 
And cold and chill, with hitter hlast. 

The wintry wind swept hy. 

\\'iiliin the farm house, quaint and old, 

The kitchen fire burned low, 
And from the open chimney shone 

With warm and fitful glow. 

The kettle sat in mild content 

Upon the heartli that night. 
And, suddenly, in gleeful way 

It sang with all its might. 

When louder shrieked the wind without, 

The kettle chimed within. 
Till through the room were ringing sounds 

Of such a merry din 

That all the shining little sparks. 

In eager, restless play. 
Went dancing, dancing in the air. 

With gleam and twinkle gay. 

And quickly flames went darling up 
The chimney, wide and deep ; 

Still higher, higher up they flew 
With wild and joyous leap. 

Across the smooth, long, yellow floor 

The flying shadows sped ; 
Upon the ceiling, o'er the wall. 

The twilight dance they led. 

They sprang from out the corners dim., 

They darted swiftly round. 
And, lightly flitting to and fro. 

In gliding chase they wound. 

They danced around the sleeping puss, 

Who, curled up in a chair. 
Ne'er dreamed that merry shadows sly 

Were joined in frolic there. 



41 



But. wide awake upon ils slielf, 
The cluck stood in its place 

And, marking time with steady tick 
Looked down with cheerful face. 

But not a sound of softest tread 
Within the room was heard. 

No voices rang in mirthful laugh 
( )r hreathed in whispered word. 

(). lung the tireless dancers tlew — 
The (lames and shadows tall : 

So still they were that no oni' knew 
Thev led the kitchen hall. 



THE SPKLLBOrXl) .Sl.l- k.l'l'R.S. 

When ])retly green grasses crec]) out of the ground 

And look up lo see if the sun is aroimd. 

Then old King Winter falls fast a>leep. 

His shnnher'- are long antl sound and ^\vv\^. 

He sleejjs through the springtime hright and gay. 

Through winds of the ]\Iarch and l)lossoms of May, 

He sleeps while the roses are nodding their heads 

To little hlue violets down in their heds. 

Xot ex'en a dream of the birds h;i-> he 

As they llutier and sing" so merrily: 

Nor of hrook^ that ripple and dance .all day 

Through meadows and woods where children play. 

Naught knows he of the golden sheaves. 

Of the ripened fruit or the falling leaves 

That turn from green into scarlet gay 

And off on the breezes float away. 

Poor Winter King! If he only knew 

How sunnner day- look with >kies of hlue! 

O. wouldn't he have a great surprise 

On a sweet June dav. if he'd open his eves! 



42 



Away to the Dreamland, calm and still, 

Fair Summer flies when the days grow chill, 

And little Jack Frost in a mischievous way 

Throws over her train just a twinkle of spray; 

So she's off for a sleep wdien the winds are bold 

And sing of the fierce and bitter cold. 

Then Winter holds rein through the starlit night, 

And, waving his scepter in morning light, 

He scatters about from his casket rare 

His jewels to shine in the silvery air. 

And smiles as they sparkle and tlash and gleam 

From ice-covered tree and frozen stream. 

With her head at rest in a roseleaf cap 

The beautiful Summer goes on with her nap. 

And she'll never know how the snowflakes fall. 

How sleighbells jingle and coasters call. 

And children are laughing when comes the cheer 

Of Merry Christmas and glad New Year. 

O. wouldn't this sleeper be greatly amazed 

If ever her eves on a snowstorm gazed ! 



THE THRESHOLD. 

The slender threshold bar there lies 

Between the great, wide world and mine. 
Before the realm of rest and peace 

It holds its strong and steadfast line. 
And none, unliidden. cross beyond. 

A stern defense its presence yields; 
With strength as of a mighty host 

The guarded sphere of home it shields. 

And only memories come in 

Tn !)ring their welcome guests at will. 
Whose footsteps wander in and out 

Or wait and linger on the sill. 
In never-ceasing-line they come 

From out shadowed years long flown ; 
In never ceasing line they go 

Bevond the threshold once their own. 



43 



When quiet hours bring waking dreams 

The grave ancestral guests appear, 
A throng whose eyes seem ever more 

To rest where ties of home were dear. 
And fancy calls the pictured forms 

To fill the space within the door ; 
Their watchful faces smile above 

The slender bit of oaken lloor. 

Their treasured words that time has stored 

In hoarded fragments, brief and rare. 
The records of their noblest deeds, 

Seem whispered in the hallowed air. 
Until the plain, long-trodden bar 

Becomes a sacred household shrine ; 
Fond thoughts cross o'er it with the dead 

To threshold of the life divine. 



TO BELLA, IN HER YELLOW GOWN. 

.\RG0R LODGE. 

In the early summer morning's light 

She swept the dewdrops down 
From the drooping boughs and jeweled grass 

That brushed her yellow gown, 
As along the orchard's w^inding path 

She walked with tranquil grace 
Like a Ceres seeking harvests' gold, 

With watchful, smiling face. 

O the lawn lay green and stretched before 

Her feet its shining way. 
And she crossed it like a vision bright, 

A sunbeam of the da}- ; 
Or a mystic damsel brought, perchance. 

By weird Aladdin's charm 
To wander in her gleaming robes 

About a quiet farm. 

44 



And the dazzling sky held up its blue, 

The arching trees bent down 
Till in sylvan frame the dark-eyed maid 

Shone out in yellow gown, 
Like a Moorish princess from afar 

Whose shrouding veil was lost, 
Or a pictured form from Art's fair realm. 

With Nature's gems embossed. 

Like a glowing flower was the face 

Above the yellow gown. 
With the petals' velvet on the cheek 

And on her dusky crown. 
All the golden pansies growing low 

Looked up as she drew near. 
And their glances told their secret thought 

"One like ourselves is here." 



QUIET PATHS. 

There are quiet paths in life 

That lie in ways unseen. 
Sometimes they lead through haunts of peace, 

Where harvest fields are green. 

Like the hidden streams that run 
Beneath the dark earth's breast, 

They oft unheeded wind below 
The busy world's unrest. 

O'er the quiet paths of life 

Cross eager, jostling throngs 
Of men intent on selfish needs 

Or overcome by wrongs. 

And the souls who seek for good 

And men with weary feet 
And sinful ones who shrink from light. 

Here welcome greetings meet. 



45 



Here the little children grasp 
Firm hands and know fond care, 

Here tender arms lift straying feet 
Away from harm and snare. 

And the aged ones who come 
With steps grown weak by years, 

Find staffs in paths where pilgrims pass 
With smiles to banish tears. 

For in quiet ways that run 
'Midst human hearts' great needs 

Is seen beside each footprint left 
Fair blossoming of deeds. 

Where the pilgrim's onward step, 
Their souls by faith made strong, 

And move to melodies that chant 
Their trusting hearts' true song. 

But the songs are low and hushed, 

God, only, hears their tone 
And listens to the steadfast strains. 

The singing of His own. 



A FLUTTER OF WINGS. 



ARBOR LODGE. 

The orchard is shining and glowing to-day 
With butterfly wings that are ceaseless at play. 

There's yellow above and there's yellow below 
And flitting about of a glimmer of snow ; 

Amidst the green tangle of tall heads of grass 
The radiant flashings of red gloamings pass. 

The boughs of the trees are low bending to hold 
The ripe harvest apples just turning to gold. 

And downward from branches the butterflies sweep, 
Like leaves of the autumn that fall to their sleep. 

46 



O hither and yon, as if blown by a sprite. 

The delicate wings rise and droop in their flight. 

Just poised for a moment their airy wave stops 
To linger and sway o'er the pink clover tops. 

A stray humming bird with a tiash passes by, 
The noisy black bee with its hu/.zing comes nigh ; 

Uplifted the wings that the fragile forms bear. 
Like Ijits of a rainbow they shine in the air. 

With darting and Hitting the (irchard is gay 
While sunbeams and butterflies silently play. 



THE SINGING RIVER. 

RIVER RAISIN^ MONROE, MICH. 

Sweet melodies are echoing 
Through mists of joy and tears. 
They come again, again repeat 
The songs that time endears. 
That sound through distant years. 

And ever with their voices dim 
One song rings o'er and o'er, 
The song the little river sang 
To homes beside its shore. 
In days that are no more. 

The winding. cur\-ing river's flow 
That came from out the west 
With roselit waves and golden tinge 
Of sunset on its breast. 
And sang in twilight's rest. 

It parted where an island stood 

With somber fringe of pine 

And toward the north and toward the south 

It sang at day's decline. 

With singing ran each line 



49 



To join in rippling near the wall 
Where stood the convent gray, 
And mingle with the quiet tones 
Of nuns who knelt to pray 
To God at close of day. 

Beside the Frenchtown ])attlcgrnund 
The sloping banks bent low 
And heard an echo from the past, 
A dirge for those who long ago 
Were slain in strife in old Monroe. 

Below the bridges in the town 

It softly murmured by 

And joined the mothers' evening song 

Of tender lullaby. 

While darker grew the sky. 

Beneath the stars reflected light 
Its voice grew bold at night. 
The fishermen sang o'er their nets 
And toiled in changeful light 
Where tianielit shores were bright. 

And with them sang the river low 

Abo\o its bed of stone. 

Then swept lietween the \ineyards darl 

With gentle, plaintive lone. 

And, shadowed, sang alone. 

Now evermore the river llows 
From westward to the sea. 
The rippling, singing river calls 
With sighing or with glee 
From out the vears to me. 



50 



THE LITTLE MAID ORDERS A SONG. 

"O write me a song." said a little maid; 

"O write me a song. I pray, 
To sing when under the elm tree's shade 
I swing on a summer day. 

And put in words 

That tell of birds, 
And speak of the hum of bees, 

And butterfly wings 

And flying things — • 
O do say much about these ! 

Of them all I'll sing 

In my elm tree swing." 

"And tell how tassels in corn husks grow, 
How I slide down the great hay mows ; 
How Rover runs when each night I go 
To watch while he brings the cows, 

And say 'tis plain 

The peacock's vain 
Of strutting to show its fan ; 

And say the sky 

Is blue and high — 
O, please write all that you can ! 

And the words I'll sing 

In my elm tree swing." 

"And then, you may tell of the roses sweet 

And lilies that grow up tall ; 
How little lambs in the pastures bleat 
And hens to their chickens call. 

Just write in rhyme 

Of summer time. 
And say that I love each day ; 

And pick out a tune 

To sing in June. 
A happy tune for my play. 

With the l)irds I'll sing 

In mv elm tree swing." t.-- 



53 



SORROW'S GIFT. 

There must I)e times when sorrow cometh to us. 
All else must wait while she her message hrings ; 

All hearts must bow through moments of her staying 
While o'er the sight her somber veil she flings. 

Bright joys depart beyond (jur clouded vision. 

Gleaming and fair they seem Init shadows dim. 
Sunlight is drear wdien sorrow cometh to us 

Bearing a cup embittered to the brim. 

Always alone we lake whate'er she bringeth. 

Anguish and pain that each alone must bear. 
Always alone each heart must enter darkness. 

Groping, ii shrinks from all that's hidden there. 

There must be times when sorrow cometh to us ! 

Broken antl crushed our spirits weary lie: 
Long will she dwell near pathways she has shadowed, 

Oft will return to breathe again a sigh. 

Yet. with her touch there falls a heavenly sweetness 
Filling the heart that once beside her lives; 

Sweetness that grows to love for all the stricken; 
Tenderness springs from out the woe she gives. 



"AFTERNOON LADIES.'" 

When toward the west the sun descends 

Till tinge of gold with shadow lilends. 

And calm are mellowed hours of day, 

In oriental colors gay 

The four-o'clocks are opened wide 

To give fresh bloom to eventide. 

In i)lain, old-fashioned yards they grow, 
And yet, in softened sunlight's glow, 
The mingled green of spreading leaves, 
With petaled red and yellow, weaves 
A web, fantastic with their bloom. 
Like fabrics from weird Indies' loom 



54 



Fnnn hedgclike rows their flowers gleam 

Till nightfall comes with shade and dream. 

Belated children of the day. 

Whose hirthplace is so far away, 

^|)u l(ii)k like dames with sprightly air. 

Whose rohes a foreign tinting wear. 

Sweet ""ladies of the afternoon." 
Your huds. awakened, are the hoon 
That brings to closing day a grace. 
What mystic charm calls up each face 
To brightly snnlc while shadows creep 
T(.) veil the summer hours with sleep? 



THE GHOST D.\NCE. 

AKl'.OK l.ODdE. 

Between the dark, uneven lines 

Of trees in the low ravine 

The rising moon has sent its rays. 

Till now no longer intervene 

The veiling boughs : above, it shines 

.\nd greets the distant grove of pines. 

And here and far away the land. 

Awaiting the bright moon's quest, 

Rolls out its plains. The searching light 

Illumines scenes of strange unrest. 

The chill Novemlier wind makes moan. 

The vanished years sigh through its tone. 

For all sweet, faded summers gone 
Have left, in their dying, strains 
That o'er and o'er ring out to-night. 
Re-echoing in sad refrains. 
And fair Nebraska's prairies lie 
-A trysting place where spirits cry. 

Out yonder in the silvered field 
Where once, in the bygone days. 
With flash of tomahawks swung high. 
The red man sought in savage ways 
To celelirate a treaty signed. 
With war dance on the land resigned. 

55 



The noiseless shadows lurk below 
The trees, as their branches sway, 
Like lithe, dark forms of Otoe braves 
In groups of stealthy foes at bay. 
Just where the old field's margins creep 
To new-grown woodland's shading deep. 

And long white spaces, moonlit, lie. 
Like ghosts of the slain in strife. 
Wan heroes from the silent band 
That trod this prairie soil in life. 
Like cry and wail of savage love, 
The wind moans plaintively above. 

It sings, and sweeps in mournful dirge 
Through depths of the curved ravine. 
And calls from hilltops where the pines 
Approach the sky with somber green. 
Till echo answers echo heard 
Like some sad. mocking voice of bird. 

With (|uickened rustle come the leaves 
To rise wdien the wind ])ipes high. 
From roadside ways and gathered drifts 
Like specters through the air fhcy fly. 
Or ghostly steps their flitting trace. 
Eacli leaf is like a witliere<l face 

Which, seared by age, has come again 
To look at the hunting ground. 
\\'here shone the campfirc's ruddy glow 
-And welcome was in wdgwams found. 
When Otoes dwelt long years ago 
Beside the dull ^Missouri's flow. 

Spellbountl. the rolling ])rairic shines. 
By notes of the wind harps led 
The red man's specter joins in dance 
With ghosts of all the sunnners dead. 
While, calmly, o'er the weird unrest. 
The moon moves slowlv toward the West. 



56 



TO THE PU^IPKIN. 

Here's to the Pumpkin! The jolly old fellow 
Who glows in tlie held with his coating of jellow ! 
Who stays on the vine when the meadows are hrowning 
And cheerfully shines when the Heavens are frowning! 
The sensible fellow, 

Goes on getting mellow 
Till sunlight of summer, stored in and rcllected, 
Shines out of his face at a time uriex])ecled. 

Minds that arc gifted with keenest acumen 
Must clearly perceive that to all who arc human 
The Pumpkin presents a most notable sample 
Of what may be done by a steady example. 
He sticks to his duty ! 

When all the fair beauty 
Of woodland and prairie is slowly declining. 
'Midst gloomy surroundings, he keeps up a shining. 

Like one who so kind that he's ne'er apathetic 
Brings cheer to his friends with a love sympathetic. 
When troubles arc mingled till joys seem departed. 
By showing a face that is all sunny-hearted. 
So, quietly wiling. 

He's ever beguiling 
The sorrowful mourner to think of ilie liiiing 
That brightens the clouds where the sunlight is shining. 

O Pumpkin, so iilump and so sensible looking ! 
Staid Puritans dried thee on rafters for cooking; 
Our forefathers prized thee for festal-day dining 
And laughed when thy lantern-lit faces were shining. 
The charm of old stories. 
Of fairyland glories 
When thou wert a coach, lends its gleam to thy yellow — 
]\Iay coming years bring thee, still golden and mellow ! 



57 



THE SILVER-LEAFED POPLAR. 

ARDOR LODGE. 

O, al\\a\s the wind l)rings a whispering call 

From out of llic tup of tlie ixiplar tall; 

There steals tlirnugh tlie air just a breath of song 

To one drawing near to the silver-leafed throng. 

"Come hack I Conu' hack! 

From the world's soher ways. 

Come hack! for a glimpse of thy childhood days. 

And hack with the years 1 am undei' its shade, 

The wondering eyes of a little maid 

Look u]) at the strange, at the dazzling sight. 

A tree that is shining in shinmu'ring white. 

A snow tree white ! 

These are robes for a (|ueen 

That rides o'er a mar\'el()us realm of green! 

Once more, all llu- leaves that are turning aside 

Are gathered like knight> for a frantic ride. 

Who start with a trend)le and cpiixer to go 

Away with the nui-^ic the singing winds blow. 

Away ! .Away I 

'Till their mantles fly oiu. 

Their lluttering ermines all swing aliout. 

The childhood's bright fancies have lived through ll 

Still wonderful light in the jiojilar .apiiears. 

The flickering leaves ttirn their green and snow 

Till shadows and sunlight are woven below 

And still the wind. 

Through the whispering throng. 

Is calling me hack' with its bre.a'h of song. 



58 



THE WATCHMAN. 

Swing and chime ! Sleepy time ! 
Listen, little children dear ! 
Swing and chime ! Sleepy time ! 
See, the night is drawing near. 
Now, at closing of the day, 
Dreamland bells ring far away. 
No more frolic! No more play! 
Swing and chime ! Swing and chime ! 
Rings the Watchman looking down 
From his tower in Sleepy Town. 

Twinkling here, twinkling there. 

Stars are shining in the sky. 

Bright and round, bright and round. 

The moon is coming by and by. 

In the street the shadows fall, 

Mothers' voices gently call. 

Little birds in tree tops tall. 

Half asleep, faintly peep, 

While the Watchman's looking down 

From his tower in Sleepy Town. 

Swing and chime! Sleepy time! 
O, how soft the bells and low, 
Swing and chime ! Sleepy time I 
As to bed good children go. 
The sun is hiding in the west, 
Little ones must go to rest. 
In a white and downy nest. 
Swing and chime! Sleepy time! 
Rings the Watchman looking down 
From his tower in Sleepy Town. 

"All is well! All is well!" 
The Watchman's cry is clear and sweet. 
He leaves the far-off silent bell 
And smiling comes along the street. 
Now, in and out he softly treads 
And bends above the little beds 
With fairy dreams for pretty heads. 
"All is well! All is well!" 
Cries the Watchman coming down 
From his tower in Sleepy Town. 

Cn 



PLANT TREES. 



ARBOR LODGE. 



To one who thinks wlien lie phuils a tree 

To live and thrive in hrown earth's breast. 
Conie visions clear of the world's great space 

^lade glad with shadowed nooks for rest. 
Where each green tree with its out-spread boughs 

Has refuge for the weary made. 
With sunlit gleams on its shining leaves 

Has l)enl to guard its cooling shade. 

To one who lists when he jilants a tree 

Come melodies so full, so sweet. 
As if the years from the future called. 

Though far away, their joys repeat: 
As if the birds from the trees to come. 

Beside each peaceful, sheltered nest. 
Sang out their glee from the morning time. 

Sang softly notes of evening rest. 

To one who thinks when he iilanls a tree 

A thousand joys spring into view. 
His act. unselfish, will others bless 

With gifts to make life glad anew. 
From out the rootlets that lie below 

A message to his heart will creep. 
"Some day this deed will a harvest yield 

When thou shalt with thy fathers sleep." 



AFTERNOON. 

The noon has passed: but earth is bright 
Willi tender touch of summer's light: 

And soft the air 
O'er mellowed scenes th;il trani|uil lie 
Stretched out beneath the azure sky. 

In beauty fair. 



f.2 



The trembling dews of early day, 
That ghttered in each dawning ray, 

Will shine no more. 
The hours that morning's triumph led 
Have with their buoyant freshness fled, 

Their cheer is o'er. 

And yet the day is newly blest ; 
The happy sunlight falls with rest 

And gentler beams. 
And softer, sweeter are the clear 
Bird notes that greet the ear. 
Like songs in dreams. 

Earth's beauty and its calm repose 
Bring quiet thought that deeper grows. 

In calm review. 
We see the truth that hours have taught, 
The latest moments are each fraught 

With treasures new. 

Beyond the noon the day's far spent, 
A peaceful spirit of content 

Now broods o'er all. 
The ripened harvests round us lie; 
Ere long will glow the sunset sky 

And night will fall. 

But with the night comes restful sleep ; 
And soon, when twilight shadows creep, 

Will gleam and shine 
For us the guiding lights above. 
To show the Father's watchful love 

O'er dav's decline. 



JUST VANISHING. 

Ah! Where is summer? She was here 
Just now with shimmering crown ! 

Beyond the hilltop she is near ; 
Or in the corniields brown 

Where rustling plumes appear. 

This moment she was passing by, 

And glows of radiant haze 
And all the gayest tints that lie 
• O'er coming autumn's ways 
Shone out as she went by. 

Not far away the summer goes. 

Her voice with echoing calls 
Where'er the singing river flows, 

WHiere'er a flower falls. 
In each soft wind that blows. 

She loiters in the woodland's shade 
Where falling, fluttering leaves 

With scarlet fleck the peaceful glade. 
Or out 'niidst harvest sheaves 

The summer may Irive strayed. 

Just on beyond the summer goes. — 

And joy- of beauteous days 
That reached the heart o'er breath of rose 

Are vanishing in golden haze 
.\s smilinglv she goes. 



L.ofC. 




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